Temporary Fixes

I used to know

a person

but everyone

picked

and

pulled

away all of

his pieces

for themselves

until suddenly

he wasn't

anyone

anymore.

"Hey, Damien! Hey! Damien!" Kenny piped up suddenly, giggling as if struck with some hilarious idea.

"What?" Damien checked his controls idly; something was off, he wasn't going left on-screen anymore…

"Okay, okay, okay. What kind of bees make milk?"
Damien sighed, "What kind of bees?"

Kenny giggled hysterically, "boobies!"

Damien made no effort to respond. Kenny, you're an idiot.

Kenny continued to laugh, until his character defeated Damien's, and he felt the need to gloat over it, and did so.

Damien was used to his friend's immaturity by now, but it wasn't so bad. Everybody has flaws, and Kenny was still a pretty cool friend- most of the time. Damien was sure he was pretty frustrating to be around anyway; being the son of the devil could be a pain in the ass.

"Awww, hey, Damien!"

"I don't wanna hear another joke, Kenny."

"No, I gotta go home. It's almost dinner."
"Huh? Oh, right, sorry." Kenny shrugged, smiled, and faded out.

----------------------------------------

Kenny shut his locker door with a bang, and hefted his ancient backpack, trying to get the broken zipper to budge. He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he failed to notice the lion barreling down the hallway. Lions in South Park weren't exactly normal themselves, but the craziness of a lion running through a middle school hallway was normal. Kenny looked up belatedly, and could think nothing but, Oh, crap.

-and Kyle hit him like a ton of bricks. Kenny hit the locker with a thump, and slumped ot the floor, dazed, Kyle stumbled back to his feet.

"Sorry, Kenny!" he turned to run after the lion, "Oh god, Flopsy, get the hell back here before you kill somebody!" Kenny shook his head.

Am I dead yet?

He pressed his fingertips gingerly against the floor.

Nope. Floor still here. Not dead.

He stumbled to his feet and went to help Kyle chase down the lion.

--------------------------------------------

"Hey, Kenny. How're you?" Kyle asked, letting the book fall forward on the hospital bed with a plop. Kenny shrugged, then gestured at the door he was still holding. Kyle shrugged, "Yeah, you can close it." He did.

Kenny pulled his hood off, shaking out his tangled hair that had become plastered to the sides of his head. I should cut the damn stuff…

"So whatcha in for this time?" He asked bluntly.

Kyle scratched the back of his head as Kenny pulled a chair out from the wall, "Kidney. Need a new one."
"What happened to Cartman's?"

"Failed."

"Oh. Suckish."

"Mm." Kyle agreed morosely, feeling his eyes stray down to the general area of his too-often problematic organs.

"Sorry, dude. Wish I could do something."

"Unless you have the right blood type, I don't think your kidneys of are of too much use," Kyle sighed, then paused suddenly, and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table, "Isn't school still in right now?"

Kenny grinned, "I think it is."
Kyle frowned, "You asswhipe. You're gonna fail eighth grade." Kenny shrugged.

"So what?"

"So that's a bad thing."

"It is?"

"Aargh. Forget it."

Kenny just kept smiling, "Ah, come on. I bet you're bored as hell all alone in this damn hospital."
Kyle made a face, "No duh. There's nothing to do!"

Kenny shook his head, "God, I hate hospitals."

"Why?"
He grimaced, "Everytime I go in a hospital, I'm terrified blind out of my skull. I always think 'dear god, I'm going to die here, aren't I?' Funny thing is…" his face turned sadly thoughtful, "I normally do."

Kyle coughed awkwardly, "Well, um, you don't have to stick around, y'know."

"Naw, I want to. We're like, best buds, right?"

"A'course."

"Forever?"
"Forever."
"Then I'll be right back." With that, thirteen-year-old Kenny McCormick smiled, pulled a gun out of his pocket, and shot himself.

--------------------------------------

"Yo, Damien?" Kenny waved. Damien just tapped his clipboard, frustrated.

"Dude, I'm working. Get the hell outta here."

"Dude, dude, I need a favor." Damien sighed.

"What?"
"I need you to make Kyle better."

"…But I hate Kyle."
"Yeah, but, but, we're friends, right? So will you make him better for me?"

"Can't."

"You mean you won't." Kenny pouted.

"Naw, I mean I can't. Dude, this is Hell, 'member? You gotta trade somethin'." Damien made another check mark as some of the new arrivees passed him.

"Well, what've I got to trade?"
"I don't think you have anything I'd take."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kenny folded his arms, and suddenly felt like a chick, so he fisted them at his sides instead.

Checkmark. "I mean, down here, we trade for lives and souls. I already have your soul, and I'm not going to kill my best friend."

Kenny bit his lip and thought.

"Well, what if I traded ways to die?"
"Eh?" Damien's pen paused above the paper.

"Well, I mean, if you make Kyle better, then, like, shark attacks can kill me for real or something."

Damien thought about it.

"That's a good idea." He slid his pen behind his ear, "How 'bout plane crashes instead? You get attacked by sharks too much. Stay off of planes." Kenny shrugged.

"Sure."

"Alright then," Damien flipped the sheet over to a square, blank one, and a knife out of his pocket; he pricked the tip of his finger and scribbled a symbol that Kenny didn't understand. He handed Kenny the knife, who pricked his own finger and pressed it against the symbol.

"Welll, alright then. Now get out of here, I've got work to do." Damien said, flipping the paper over and waving his hand. Kenny smiled behind his hood.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kenny faded out.

-----------------------------------------------

"What the hell man? That's disgusting." Kyle grimaced, gesturing at the poorly cleaned smear of blood on the floor and wall that had once been Kenny. Kenny shrugged.

"I told you I don't like hospitals."
"So what the hell did you kill yourself and get blood everywhere for? You coulda just left."

Kenny shrugged, "I panicked. But I'm okay now! And I brought soda." He tossed a can at Kyle, who caught it awkwardly.

"I'm in a hospital with a failing Kidney. I don't think soda's a good idea."
Kenny grinned behind fabric, so Kyle couldn't see, "Oh, trust me, I think you'll be fine."
Kyle raised an eyebrow, and warily set the can back down on the bedside table.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draik: …I felt a burning, fiery need to bring back Damien.

Kenny: Why the hell do you ALWAYS write about me? I needa break.

Stan: And where am I?!?! Why do I always have to be the asshole friend?

Draik: You're… at school. Like a good little middle schooler.

Kyle: I don't think you've done middle school with us before, have you?
Draik: No, and I don't plan too. I didn't go to public middle school, I was wrapped up and carted to private school. So I have no idea what middle school is like. I ain't gonna try to, either. This is just setting up the story; you guys get older.

Kyle: Oh.

Pip: Oh my! Will I be in this?

Draik: Prob'ly. Still debating, anyway. 80% sure you will be.

Cartman: I hate that fag.

Draik: You hate everybody.

Cartman: Sheddup.

Draik: So, anyway, I've had flipping swine flu for the past week, and all these bubbly, creative little ideas buzzing around my head. It's been so boriiiiiing. I've had nothing to do and I honestly couldn't get up and find a computer. I've been so damn sick. Ah, well.

Stan: E gads! Swin flu! Flee!

Draik: Oh, shattup. :C Anyway, I lost my appetite, and now I

M really really hungry but at the same time I really really don't wanna eat anything. It sucs. =_= Love ya'll, catch'ya next chapter! ^^